The Story of Petunia Evans
by Rookwood
Summary: Ch 7 up! I know people don't like Petunia but give her a chance! She wasn't always the bitter woman she is to Harry. In fact, once upon a time, she was a little girl who made a big mistake... Read and Review!
1. Prologue

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Prologue: Raspberry Jam

Petunia's window was cracked open all night, letting in the cool air on a July evening. She was dreaming of flying when the sun broke over the rooftops. Hours later, she woke to the smell of French toast wafting through the house. She was up in an instant, grinning. French toast was her absolute favourite food. It was a food group in itself, as far as she was concerned.

"Morning Pet," said her father as she walked into the kitchen. "Have a good sleep?"

"Great, Dad. It was so nice out, I had the window open. Is Lily up yet?"

She reached for a fork as she sat down, eager to begin eating.

"Lily got up when she heard your mum get up, but I think she's in bed right now," He shrugged over his coffee mug as he was cut off.

"Morning, morning, toast!" sang Lily as she entered.

Petunia and her little sister, Lily, got along well most of the time. _98 of the time, actually_, thought Petunia. The rest of the time was spent in sisterly squabbles over television, radio stations, possessions and clothes. Not that Lily could fit into most of Petunia's clothing. Petunia was taller and much thinner than Lily.

"Petunia, pass the powdered sugar, would ya please?"

"Mmhmm – pass the raspberry jam here, then…"

"Lily, dear, hand your mother the coffee pot."

"Dad, can't you just--"

"Now then, Lily…"

"Yes, sir! Petunia, why d'you eat raspberry jam on French toast?"

Petunia shrugged. "I'm just different."

When the sun set on this day, Petunia Evans would have a very different idea of what 'different' meant.


	2. The Owl and the Letter

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The Owl and the Letter

The sun was high and hot, beating down on Petunia as she lay outside in the soft grass of her back yard. She was trying to read – a Nancy Drew book, she liked Nancy Drew – when she felt a spatter of cold water from the direction of the house.

"Lily!" she shouted. "Lily, put the hose down, Lily, you'll soak my book!"

"Come on, Petty, I want you to play with me!"

"No, Lily, not now, I'm reading. Go find a book and read, yourself. It'll make

you smarter."

"Hey, I _am_ smart!" Lily stuck her tongue out in a decidedly unattractive

fashion.

"Yeah, for an immature little nine year old…" muttered Petunia. "No. I'll tell

Mum if you don't leave off."

Lily, looking rejected and hurt, went back inside the house. _Well, she doesn't have to be so…annoying. _Thought Petunia. She felt a little twinge of guilt at making her younger sister feel unwanted. _I'll play with her later. She probably wants to pretend to be a Unicorn tamer again. _She rolled her eyes. Unicorns. Everyone knew they didn't exist outside of storybooks.

She settled in to the shade of a nearby tree to finish reading. If she had stayed in the sunlight of the yard, she would have seen the shadow of a large barn owl swooping overhead. It sat on a branch, staring down at her unblinkingly, for a few minutes. Finally, it dropped a letter on her head.

She screamed and jumped sideways, flinging the letter off to the side. She

looked as though it might bite her. This was normal behavior for an eleven-year-

old girl who was at a pivotal spot in her Nancy Drew mystery novel, however.

Presently, she came to herself, and bent down to pick up the heavy looking

letter. The owl had already gone. _Why was an owl carrying a letter?! _She thought in disbelief. It had just occurred to her that an owl dropping a letter on her head was not normal. _It must be_

trained. _It's probably someone's practical joke. Or it's for someone else, and_

the owl dropped it on me by mistake.

The letter had a large crest, bearing the letter H and an eagle, a lion, a

badger, and a snake. The writing on the front said, "Miss Petunia Evans" in bold, green ink.

Amazed, Petunia sat down to open it.

"Petunia? Pet! Pet, were you mean to your sister? Petunia, where are you?" her

mother's voice sounded from the back screen door. Her mother was a slim, pretty

woman with strawberry-blonde hair, and hazel eyes.

"No, Mum, I told Lily not to soak my book, she had the hose!" Petunia called

back.

"Well, where are you?"

"Under the tree…"

"Are you still reading?"

__

Well, I am reading the letter, "Yes, Mum! And when I'm done I promise I'll play

with Lily!"

"Good girl."

She heard the screen door twang shut. Taking a deep breath, though she didn't know why she was nervous, she opened the letter.


	3. What Petunia Is Not

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What Petunia is Not

There were a few sheets in the envelope, and the first slid out into Petunia's hand, as though eager for her to read it. She examined it front and back, and then read:

__

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards.)

Dear Miss Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Suddenly, the afternoon sunshine seemed cooler. Petunia lowered the letter. Then she read it again. Then she put it back down, on the grass by her knee. _This would make sense, _she thought, _this would explain all the strange things I've done._

Petunia sometimes made things happen, when she was very, very happy, or terribly angry. Just the last week of school, she had done something strange again. Her teacher read the latest maths test scores out loud. Petunia was good at maths, but she'd been beaten by one little boy in her class by two points.

Jeremy and his gang laughed out loud, and called her dumb, as soon as class let out. Jeremy never let her alone, and she was sick of it.

Blinking back furious tears, Petunia had kept her head up and walked quickly towards her neighbourhood. Jeremy's taunting voice floated after her on the fresh summer breeze. She turned to face him, ready with a biting insult, when suddenly the pavement square beneath Jeremy had moved!

It jumped to the left, and slightly up, throwing Jeremy flat on his back in mid-taunt. The surrounding group of boys looked shocked and more than a little afraid. Jeremy began to choke on his bubblegum, and no one noticed the pavement slide gently back into place. It took him a moment to spit out his gum, but when he managed, he turned to say something menacing to Petunia.

She found it hard to be intimidated by a purple-faced boy with drool on his chin, however, and had walked away, laughing. _I must have imagined that, though, because pavement doesn't move! Not normal pavement, anyway. _Petunia glanced back at the letter, shaking off the memory.

The wind whistled through the tree branches, making the letter rustle for her attention. _Maybe…maybe it's really not the pavement, or anything else…? Maybe it **was** me. I did that…? _She shook her head. There was no way, NO WAY, that she was a freak like that! She was made fun of by boys at school, for being tall and skinny, and when she got mad… Well, look what happened! And it didn't improve anything,. They would keep their distance, but they became more creative in their insults.

No, she was not different.

__

No way. Not going to happen. Sorry Minerva-whatever-your-name-is, I'm not going!

Petunia rose with resolve, and tore the letter into tiny, confetti-like pieces. She scattered them in the garden, and went inside to play with Lily. She forgot about the envelope, and it lay propped against the tree trunk, waiting. It didn't cross her mind over dinner, nor did it enter her thoughts the next day.


	4. The Forgotten Letter

**The Forgotten Letter**

And so, throughout the next few days, the letter lay forgotten under the tree.

Forgotten until Lily decided she needed a tree fort. And since Lily, being short and only nine, could not build a tree fort on her own, she enlisted the help of her father.

She started asking him at breakfast, and it soon became clear to him that he would not be able to do anything else until Lily had his help.

"Dad," she began, in a voice as sweet as the maple syrup she was pouring on her waffles. "Dad, wouldn't it be cool to have a tree house? Didn't you have one when you were little?"

"Mmhhhmmm…," came her father's disembodied voice from behind the newspaper. "That I did, Lil…"

"Dad, you want to help me build one? Dad? I know just where I want it." She waited.

"Dad! Hello, dad are you listening?"

"What, Lily? Of course, I am."

"Oh, so you'll help me! Great! Great, I want it in the tree in the back yard, the one with the low branches!" she yelled as she sprang up from the table. She was already on her way out the back door when her father realized what she was talking about.

However, he was a man who had love for his daughters in abundance, and a lot of patience. So with his toolbox in one hand, and coffee mug in the other, he went after Lily.

"Dad, dad, look! This is the perfect spot, look, the tree makes a ladder for me! See how I got up?" Lily called, from more than half-way up the tree.

"Lily! Good Lord, be careful! Don't fall, come down here. I'll make the tree house right there, if you want. But I'm going to make a ladder safer than those branches."

Lily grinned. This was going to be perfect! "Sure, Dad. Thanks!" She ran to tell Petunia as her father started the platform of the fort. As soon as she disappeared indoors, he backed down the tree and got his coffee. After all, there was no way he could work on a fort without some coffee, he thought. He sat back against the trunk of the tree and the letter that Petunia had left rustled under his seat.

It caught his attention as though it had pinched him. It certainly felt as though it had!

"Hogwarts…School of what?" He muttered. "Cauldron…wand…robes? What is this?" He read on. He came to another letter bearing the title: "To the parents of Miss Petunia Evans."

To the parents of Miss Petunia Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that your daughter has been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This may come as a shock to you, and your daughter. I would like to take this opportunity to assure you that this is a perfectly normal occurrence.

Although you may not be aware of it, there is a large magical community in England, and many other countries. Many witches and wizards live scattered throughout nonmagical neighborhoods. They send their children to attend Hogwarts School to educate them in the basics of Charms, Astronomy, Potions, History of Magic, and other important and interesting subjects.

We do not accept only those of magical background, however. At Hogwarts, we accept many students from nonmagic backgrounds who have magical ability and show promise of being great witches or wizards. Petunia has both the ability and the promise, and we would be very pleased to answer any questions you may have concerning Hogwarts. Simply write your questions on the blank sheet of parchment enclosed, and you will receive an answer promptly.

With best wishes,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

And

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Mr. Evans leaned back against the tree again. _Well! I'll be damned! _He thought. _Why didn't Pet tell us about this? _With that, tree fort forgotten, he rose and nearly ran to the house.

"Petty! Petunia Anne Evans! Where have you gone?" he yelled.

A very irritable "what?" was the only response he got.

"Petunia! Why didn't you tell us, you're a witch!" he exclaimed.

Petunia froze on the landing of the stairs. "Am not."

"But Pet, you have a letter! You're a witch, you're going to Hogwarts. You sent them an owl, right?"

"No."

"Mom," came Lily's voice. "He's supposed to be making my fort!"

"Harold, what's going on?" Cheryl poked her face around the corner.

"Pet's a witch!" Harold grinned broadly. "My great-great-great grandma Olivia was a witch, but we haven't had a witch or wizard in the family for ages!"


	5. The Reply

The Reply

Petunia's face flushed brightly. There had been other people like her in her family? There was another…freak? It was her family's fault! She glared at her father. _Why is he so pleased with himself? If he's so happy, why doesn't he go!_

Cheryl's cheeks glowed pink and she flung her arms around Petunia.

"Honey, we're so happy for you! Why haven't you sent them a reply? They won't think much of our family if you don't reply promptly!"

How just like Mum, Petunia thought, angrily. "Listen, I am not going to some freak school! I am not different, I am not like greatgreatgreatgrandmawhat'sherfaceIamnormalandIamNOTGOING!" She declared, very fast, and all in one breath. Her face was crimson now.

Her parents' faces fell, they were clearly confused.

"But honey…why wouldn't you want to learn magic?" her father asked gently.

"You'll be able to do and learn so much that we could never even dream of doing…" her mother added.

Petunia looked at her feet, brimming with anger at her parents; this was their fault, somehow. But her mind was blank. Why shouldn't she go? Left without repartee, she turned and fled back to her room, slamming the door with such force that an old family portrait fell to the floor, the glass in a thousand fractured pieces.

Cheryl gave her husband a hopeless look. "Harry…why on earth do you think she's reacting that way?"

Lily tugged at her sleeve.

"Does she really think it's not…normal? Honestly."

Lily tugged more insistently. "Mom" she whispered, "Mom, I want to be a witch! Can I be a witch, too?"

"Shhh, Lily." Her father motioned Cheryl downstairs, fully intending to discuss Petunia without Lily hearing. But Lily, not one to be deterred, followed a few minutes after them, and quietly sat outside the kitchen, listening in.

"Well…" Her father's voice floated out to her. "We don't have very much time to think. We'll have to write Dumbledore, one way or the other, before the 31st."

"Mmhhmmm, I wish she would stop this obsession with _normal_" Cheryl sighed. "If I were her, I'd be overjoyed. I'd love to go to Hogwarts. How interesting it must be!"

"That's neither here nor there, Cheryl. We can't make up her mind for her. We can't force her to go."

"We could try talking it over with her…but I don't think she'd listen. I always did wish she'd be more open-minded about things."

Lily mulled this over as she wandered out to the driveway to make a hopscotch. She found a branch that had fallen into the garden from an old tree. She picked a little off-shoot, and made believe it was a wand. She danced around the garden, tapping the late summer flowers. She grinned happily when the neighbors came outside.

"I'm a witch! I'm making flowers into faeries!" She stated.

"Are you, Miss Lily? Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?" the neighbour-lady asked kindly, with a smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

"Oh, I'm a good witch!" Lily replied. "I didn't know there was such a thing as a bad witch!"

"You're such a sweet girl, Lily! Make sure to turn some of my flowers into faeries, too." Neighbour-lady said, as she got into her car.

Petunia heard nothing, though her window was open. Her attention was directed inward. _Why me?_

The next morning, she came down to breakfast as though nothing out of the ordinary had been happening, and dropped strawberries into her cereal while avoiding her parents and their sideways glances.

"Petunia," Her mother began. "You don't have to go to Hogwarts School if you don't want to. Your father and I won't push you into it. We want you to know that."

Petunia nodded. "Good. I'm not going. Ever. And I don't ever want to hear about it again."

Her father gave her a sorrowful look. Later that day, he sat down to compose a letter to Professor Albus Dumbledore, expressing his apologies on Petunia's decision.


	6. Lily's Letter

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Lily's Letter

The next few years passed much without incident. Petunia was turning into a lovely young lady, though a bit obsessed with appearing 'normal.' Stacks of magazines filled with the latest fashions - the ones everyone was wearing - lined her bookshelves.

Lily, following her parents, made no mention of Hogwarts, witches, wizards, or any other abnormal topics near Petunia. Secretly, she still held to her dream of becoming a Unicorn tamer. Since the day Petunia's letter had been discovered, she had realized that now, maybe, it was possible! She never relinquished the hope of a letter of her own.

Petunia, at thirteen, was discovering that boys were not simply the uncouth creatures of messy hair and careless insults she had thought they were when she was eleven. They were mysterious creatures, to be studied at length, even if they were not to be spoken to. Her friends gathered round in her room, for long sessions of serious debate on this very subject. Often these debates lasted all night and into the morning hours, as they sat and ate popcorn.

It was the morning after one of these long meetings that a shriek sounding from the front hallway, below her room, woke Petunia. _What the bloody…? _She tumbled, bleary-eyed, from bed to find out why Lily had made such noise while she, Petunia, was sleeping.

Petunia collided with her parents as they all filed down the stairs to find out what the matter was. They stopped and watched as Lily, hugging a heavy parchment envelope to her chest, danced about the hallway.

"I got a letter! I got a letter!" she chanted, twirling joyously in her socks on the wood floor. "Letter, letter, letter!"

"Lily!" Her mother came to her senses. "Stop that this instant! You might knock the painting off the wall!"

Lily's obvious excitement could not be diminished by her mother's mundane reaction, and she ran into the kitchen where she skidded into the table. That subdued her long enough for her parents to follow her in.

"Well," her father grinned happily; "We already know what that is! Lily, I'm so proud of you - er, you will go, won't you?" He added.

"OF COURSE!" Lily nearly screamed. 'I can't _wait_! I can't wait until September! I want to get my supplies now! Can we go now? Oh, mom, dad, I can't wait!"

Petunia was lingering in the doorway of the kitchen, a look of horror and disbelief on her face. _What if one of my friends finds out that I have - that I'm related to…That Lily's a…a… _She was unable to finish her thought. She turned and ran back to her room, and she was preparing to slam her door. And then it dawned on her. No one had noticed that she had left. No one had even seen that she was there! _What is wrong with them! Why are they so happy to have this...this sort of…What are they thinking!_

The next month of summer passed in a blur to Lily, but the days dragged dismally for Petunia as she watched the excited preparation. Lily was to depart from Platform 9 ¾ on September 1. Petunia watched as Lily tried on her robes from Madam Malkins, and played with her new Snowy owl. She watched as Lily flipped through her textbooks with moving photos, and played with her wand. She watched with the morbid curiosity of someone who is driving by a wreck on the side of the road. And she found that she couldn't look away.

Finally, September 1 arrived. Lily couldn't sleep the night before, yet she was fresh and happy in the morning. She nervously played with her toast and jam without eating much at all. Petunia ate in stony silence and was rising to leave the table when Lily spoke.

"Pet…I'm going to miss you when I go to school."

Petunia said nothing, and shrugged. After a few moments, Lily tried again.

"Will you write me any letters?"

Petunia nodded, and tried to smile. Lily obviously didn't understand. She wasn't normal. And Petunia didn't feel like connecting herself with anything that wasn't normal, now that she was fitting in so nicely. She didn't want any more cruelty from her peers at school.

"I'll write you, Lil, but how will the letters get there?"

Lily smiled, reassured. "Owl. I'll send you letters with Saffron, and I'm sure she'll bring me a letter back!"

"Alright," came Petunia's reply. She was already out of the kitchen and heading up the stairs.

Harold and Cheryl Evans exchanged glances, but said nothing.

"Hey, alright, mom, dad, can we start to pack my things now?" Lily's excitement had returned to its previous pitch. "I don't want to be late and miss the train!"


	7. Lily's Leavetaking

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Lily's Leavetaking

The house was dark and making the alien night-noises that houses always make. From the kitchen there came a faint click as the coffee maker began brewing the favourite coffee of Harold Evans. Soon the alarm clock on Cheryl's nightstand would wake her with the daily news and weather reports..

In Petunia's room it was dark and chilly - she had left her window open, hoping for the last breath of Indian summer air.. Suddenly there was a faint buzz and then -

"All the latest pop favorites, all morning!" exclaimed the voice of an energetic DJ.

Petunia sat bolt-upright, then relaxed and hit the snooze button. She lay back and listened as her mother rose and went downstairs - a creak at the top step, a creak in the middle, and a creak at the seventh step. She knew it by heart. Soon breakfast noises and smells were wafting through the house, and Petunia rose to dress. Petunia was pleased whenever she looked into her closet. She had all of the latest fashions to wear, straight out of her magazines. All of her friends were envious.

She trotted downstairs and entered the kitchen, grabbing the door frame to steady herself as she nearly slipped. Around the table she found her parents whispering excitedly.

"Oh, Petunia dear," Her mother sang. "Come and see! We've all got letters from Lily! Wait until you read it - it's _wonderful_!"

Petunia's eyes darkened. She knew that letters from Lily arrived by owl - Saffron, to be exact - and she didn't want _anyone_ seeing a letter-bearing owl coming to her house. It was too bizarre. Even so, she reached for her letter, and studied the slightly rough parchment. Lily's messy scrawl carried the air of her enthusiasm like perfume - it made Petunia slightly ill.

__

Wands, Potions, Charms, shifting staircases, Gryffindor, Slytherin, walking suits of armour? Petunia's head swam. She didn't want to know about any of this, but her little sister didn't realize that. _Or she's ignoring it, _Petunia thought. She sat down and leaned over for the jam - catching a disapproving glance from her mother.

Nearly two months had passed since Lily had boarded the Hogwarts Express - a huge, scarlet train - from Platform 9 ¾, which was cleverly hidden from muggle view. Petunia had tagged along - still watching with the fascination of one going by a wreck. Caught up in the frenzied excitement of Lily's big day, no one had really noticed Petunia's melancholy silence.

Lily, nearly hopping with excitement, had run onto the train completely forgetting her parents. Then she had run back out to hug them and say her rushed good-byes.

"Oh, Mum, Dad, I'm so excited I'll write you, I promise, I can't wait, I wonder how long the ride is to get there? I love you! Bye, Petunia! I'll write! Bye! Bye!" she cried, and in a swirl of robes, she sprang onto the train and was gone. Moments later, the Hogwarts Express disappeared. Soon after, so did a car holding three very emotional people. A teary-eyed Cheryl, an elated Harold, and a sullen, angry Petunia.

The family silently ate a rushed breakfast. "Petunia?" her mother questioned, "Petunia, honey, you're going to be late for school."

Petunia snapped out of her memory and realized her mother was right - she had no time at all to get to school! She jumped up, spilling her orange juice, and ran out the front door with books and papers flying. She arrived at school breathless and just in time.

"Hey Molly, Anne-Marie, hey, Eva!" she panted. "Good morning, Mrs. Thomas."

"Hey Petunia," yawned Anne-Marie.

"Good morning, Miss Evans," Mrs. Thomas greeted her from behind a precarious stack of papers.

"Hey, Petunia," said Molly, "Can we all come over after school?"

"Sure," Petunia reluctantly agreed. "We'll meet under that big tree."

Petunia and her friends spent most of their afternoons at each other's houses, or outside if it was warm and sunny. Most often they went to Petunia's, because her parents didn't mind teenage girls running about the house.

Petunia, however, minded it a great deal, and was always afraid that an owl would come flying in, just when all her friends were there.


End file.
